


something was dead in each of us

by crookedspoon



Series: For "Our" Future [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, Everything but the Rain arc, F/M, Gen, Inspired by Music, Introspection, Jealousy, Pre-Series, Sacrifice, Suspicions, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite their help in saving Masaki's life, Ryuuken can't bring himself to trust them.</p><p>In which Ryuuken asks all the questions he didn't think of in the manga. Takes place after chapter 535.</p>
            </blockquote>





	something was dead in each of us

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for prompting this, thatzodiacsky! This is an idea I didn't write when I had the chance back in April. After Ryuuken walked away in chapter 536 and the backstory arc was concluded, I felt no one would want to read this, because it strays from canon. Your request for Ryuuken/Masaki/Isshin during the flashback period, however, made me want to write it again. (I just hope it's not one of those ideas that had better be left in the bin.)
> 
> Many, many thanks to Neurotoxia for supplying beta services and letting me complain about not making sense or being all over the place with this. Also written for Aug 31, 2013: "minion of fate" @ 31_days (LJ).

_And I find myself questioning all that I have done_  
_And I'm trying to press the button to rewind_  
_And I find myself whispering 'There's more I could have done'_  
_And I wish I had the option to rewind_  


—Temposhark, _It's Better to Have Loved_  


* * *

Masaki was writhing, struggling, jerking as though electrocuted. Sweat formed on her brows, and she crushed his fingers together in search for support he couldn’t give. Biting his lip, he forced himself to emit calming waves by sitting stock still. He dared not breathe. All was in the Shinigami’s hands. As if it wasn't bad enough that Ryuuken was essentially useless here.

Apart from her, nobody moved.

Opposite Ryuuken, the Shinigami – who was a Shinigami no longer, going by what this Urahara person had told them before – sat like a statue of a warrior king, eyes closed and arms crossed, the very picture of intense concentration.

Who exactly was this man anyway and why did he help them? From what he had gathered, this man had been a Shinigami Captain until just now, which was a lot of responsibility to throw away on a whim. So, how could he trust him? For all he knew, these people could be working together, because wasn't it convenient for them to pop out of nowhere right when he was searching for help? 

As if they had known he was coming. 

Not to mention that they had known what to do, when Ryuuken himself was still overwhelmed and fearing to lose Masaki. In that moment, he had let this ray of hope be his guiding light toward trusting them blindly and now he was beginning to doubt that decision.

What did they have to gain from it? Ryuuken wouldn't put it past this Urahara person to satisfy his scientific curiosity through this, but there was no bargain for the Shinigami. In fact, he had everything to lose. The pseudo-human life he got in exchange could not be called profitable. Moreover, he would have to spend this life protecting a Quincy, his enemy, until she died. The Shinigami might have implied that a human's lifespan was nothing to him, but if it appeared so incomparably short to a Shinigami, why would he give up his established Spirit Life for one?

Wouldn't it have served him better to let her die? Or was it possible for his honour to be more important to him than his life and the duty to his people? If so, it would defy everything Ryuuken had been taught about Shinigami.

It shamed him, too: had their roles been reversed, Ryuuken wouldn't have been able to put his sense of righteousness before his family and to turn his back on them to save an enemy.

But that may well be his own anger talking. He still couldn't grasp the magnitude of his own negligence that had brought this all about. There must have been a way they could have somehow prevented all this.

Right now, he had too much time to wait and pray that she would survive, and nothing to occupy his mind with, to escape the raging blame and self-doubts, because surely if he had acted differently, she wouldn't have to suffer. He could have stepped in before, when it was her against that thing. Then it wouldn't have touched her, wouldn't have contaminated her, and they could have gone home to leave that incident behind them.

Was it pride that had stopped him? Consideration? Cowardice? He had intended this victory to be hers, not wanting her to know he still had her back despite having told her to let it go.

What good would her determination be if he always took matters out of her hands?

And now, Ryuuken only had eyes for the Hollow hole opening above Masaki's sternum, black like despair and malignant like cancer. It made him sick. Was it truly shrinking? Could he trust his vision or was his brain supplying the images he wanted to see?

The adrenaline from earlier was ebbing away, leaving him drowsy in its wake, but apprehension kept him at the edge of his seat.

To think that this thing was still inside her and not even the Shinigami could extract it, that it would stay within her and lay low like a disease, lurking just beyond her consciousness to spring up and devour her soul when the Shinigami would no longer be around. It was maddening.

Perhaps it would have been wiser to seek out his father; perhaps he would have known what to do, how to save her, how to restore her former state. Because even if Masaki were saved through this, she would no longer be _purblütig_ – the Hollow inside her was like a drop of venom that would poison all her progeny. And perhaps everyone her blood came in contact with.

If that was true, what was he going to tell his mother? It would break her heart to know the Quincy line would dwindle hereafter, and that all her sacrifices for their family had been for nought.

 _Fool, what are you thinking?_ Ryuuken's breath caught at the intensity of shame that rolled over him. For all he knew, Masaki's life was still in danger and he worried about disappointing his mother's expectations.

But it was true: now that her blood was no longer pure, Masaki had no obligation to marry him anymore. She was free of that burden and free to choose her own fate, and so was Ryuuken.

Collapsing in on itself, the hole on Masaki's chest closed and suddenly Ryuuken's own heart felt like it was blackening and disappearing, as if he himself was disappearing. It was momentary shock, he told himself. Everyone would react like that if they found their lives topsy-turvy and their future plans scrambled, right? He had grown up believing he would marry Masaki, thinking of ways how to be a good husband to her, because one day he would have to be – no excuses, no debates.

And now?

Now, Masaki's hand slackened in his. Her whole body slumped.

Alarmed, Ryuuken looked up. Her expression was peaceful and her chest still heaving. Ryuuken breathed in relief, and sagged, unable to keep himself upright any longer. He rested his forehead on their clasped hands, warming her cool fingers, then pressing his lips against them, thanking the gods for their mercy.

Masaki's eyes fluttered open after what seemed an eternity.

"Ryuu-chan?"

Ryuuken straightened a little, but he could form no reply, neither in word nor gesture. Masaki, however, smiled softly. He wanted to say something, but before he could open his mouth, her eyes, gleaming like sun-kissed waters, flitted to the Shinigami, who had moved no more than to lift his lids. Had she sensed him there? In this body, he emitted no _reiatsu_ , so how?

Of course.

Their soulful gazes told him everything: this newly forged bond between them went beyond his understanding, so might it not be possible for them to exchange volumes of conversations through a glance, like telepaths? He could ask them, but right now it would feel like disturbing a reunion of long-lost lovers. The Shinigami even had the audacity to colour faintly.

A spike of jealousy stabbed his throat, and an odd sense of... possessiveness washed through him. Why did he feel like having been robbed of his belongings, like he had been cheated out of something that was his? Had the knowledge of his arranged marriage overridden his concern for Masaki's feelings with the base need to _own_? In that case, he would be no better than a Hollow...

"You're safe now," the Shinigami said, voicing all the reassurance Ryuuken could have hoped to offer himself. But coming from him it would have sounded like no more than a set phrase, some platitude to patch a problem, but not to solve it. The Shinigami, however, knew it to be true.

Masaki smiled at him, and when he covered her hand with his, Ryuuken felt like a spectator behind glass, looking in on something he wasn't supposed to see. The two now shared something he wasn't part in, something he couldn't even understand because it ran deeper than blood.

"Good! The procedure seems to have been a success."

Urahara's exclamation was like a clap of thunder, startling each of them out of their own private worlds. That he would now want to bask in the spotlight after having remained silent throughout was nothing to worry about, but the odd cheer in his voice certainly struck Ryuuken as odd. As though he had been observing them all along and gauged this exact moment as the most effective to chime in.

Was there something he needed to divert their attention from? Something they should not notice?

Ryuuken eyed him sideways. Now that his worry was slowly dissipating from his system, his suspicions rose to the forefront again and the man's shadowed eyes now glittering darkly, now mirthfully beneath his hat's striped brim did nothing to alleviate them. Ryuuken's ability to read people often allowed him to guess their agenda after meeting them for mere minutes. His acquaintance with these two, however, had stretched beyond an hour and still he was unsure about their ulterior motives.

Why would Shinigami help Quincy? To answer with "because they've fallen in love," as the scene before him might have suggested, would be too naive and simple. Ryuuken would not believe that. Rather, he suspected a more cunning plot behind it.

But what?

It made no sense. If they had wanted the Quincy destroyed, they could have left Masaki to her fate. No one could have been blamed for her death, safe for the Hollow that had attacked her. Without her, the pure Quincy bloodline would dwindle and with it, their powers. Except that not even her death had been needed to cut off the bloodline.

Ryuuken stood.

"Is something wrong, Ryuu-chan? You look very pale."

He knew he wouldn't understand their motivations behind this. At least, not the way he was now. He only knew this wasn't done out of goodwill. And if he couldn't think of any immediate benefits, perhaps there would be some in the long run.

Shinigami viewed time investments differently than humans. Compared to them, he was a newborn with no knowledge of the world. Who knew how many years of planning had gone into this, if this Urahara person had a machine ready for something as intricate-sounding as a soul link? Surely there weren't many Quincy who needed this. Ryuuken would have heard of it.

He needed to find out more about them. Maybe his father would be able to answer some of his questions. During his negotiations with the Shinigami, he must have learned something worth telling about them.

"I'm fine. I think I should let Mother know that you are all right." Could he risk leaving? Or, more precisely: could he risk leaving Masaki here?

"Let me come with you," she said, but couldn't lift herself up. Ryuuken touched her trembling shoulder to stop her. At the same time, the Shinigami's hand grasped her arm to support her. Their eyes met. Ryuuken fought hard to keep his face still and his fingers from curling. His anger could hurt Masaki if he didn't rein it in. She was still weak from fighting the transformation and in no condition to walk about.

"Stay. I won't be long." He glanced at the Shinigami again, who nodded at him. He seemed to agree that Masaki shouldn't leave.

But Ryuuken had no intention of leaving, either.

"Ryuu-chan? Can you bring me a change of clothes?"

Ryuuken noticed the Shinigami's eyes flicker away from Masaki at the mention of clothes. He fought hard not to clench his jaw and to reply in a neutral voice, "Of course. I will."

Then he turned to Urahara. "Do you have a phone I could use?"

"Sure, sure," the man waved his paper fan in Ryuuken's direction and strode toward him. "You can use the landline at the front." He hooked their arms and dragged Ryuuken behind him. "Let me guide you."

Ryuuken glanced over his shoulder one last time to catch Masaki reclining. Her expression was tired, but serene. The Shinigami held her hand and smiled down at her. He appeared to be murmuring something Ryuuken didn't catch.

Urahara led him into another room at the front of his house. In the dark, Ryuuken could make out shelves and display cabinets lining the walls, covered in cloth, most likely to shield them from dust. It looked like a storeroom, or a shop. When he had entered the house earlier, the need to save Masaki had obscured everything else, and that included where he followed. Perhaps finding that out would shed some light on the man.

The line connected and rang several times, before clicking open. _Hurry up, please._

"Hello?" a female voice said on the other end. Thankfully, it wasn't his mother.

"Katagiri? It's me."

"Young master! Where are you? Are you all right? Your mother is worried."

"We're fine. Masaki is all right, that's all that matters now. Listen, Katagiri. I have a few errands for you to run..."

Ryuuken had an idea what to do, but he was unable to leave Masaki's side. With Katagiri's help, he could at least make arrangements until Masaki was fit to accompany him out of the door.

"Certainly, young master. What is it you need?"

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "The Ballad of Reading Gaol" by Oscar Wilde.
> 
> Feedback is adored. :)


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